#hydaelyn have mercy on our souls

[cinlat]

These are the oldest images I have of Isashi, my WoL, from 2015 right after the Au Ra was released as a playable race. She was a miqo before that.

And here is my girl right before she died at the end of Endwalker. She changed things up a bit after her husband’s death and added the tattoos in his memory. He was always fascinated by her eyes, so she decided to accentuate that part of her face. Isashi took her job as the WoL light seriously and would work herself into exhaustion. She had a dry sense of humor, but enjoyed finding laughter in the joy of her friends. She died a hero and was immortalized in stone, song, and tapestries across the star.

Now, the fate of Eorzea is left in the hands of this disaster...No one is more surprised than her, I assure you.

I want more WoLs on my dash. Reblog this with the oldest picture you have of your WoL/OC, and then the newest photo you have of them. Show off what changed! Did they change race? Gender? Hair color? Hair style? Tell me about it!

[starswornoaths]

FFXIVWrite 2023 Prompt#1: Emissary

heelies in late with Starbucks with a oneshot laying out the groundwork for a childhood sweethearts-to-strangers-to-lovers pipeline between my WoL and Miounne, leaves without elaborating.

No spoilers for MSQ, just playing with the idea of anyone with the Echo that awoke during the Calamity being forgotten by everyone that Hydaelyn decided they would be Plot Relevant Later:tm: just like what happened with 1.0 WoL :')

word count: 1,128

When Serella had put Gridania behind her, she had thought she had made peace with it. Left it behind with all the other dead things it had inside it. Left it with the home it had taken from her. A pragmatic part of her had accepted that she would return in some capacity, even if in passing through. 

She just thought she would be more ready for it. That she would feel like more than the girl that fled the Carline Canopy shivering into the rain after rising from the ashes of Calamity. Like more than the barely-grown thing wrapped in an adult’s rite of passage that stepped too confidently onto a carriage to the outside world. Like more than the instinct that made her run.

All that running, and here she was: Serella Arcbane, stood beneath the awning of the Carline Canopy, drying from the rain again.

But her cloak was about her shoulders this time, at least. No shivering this time. Small mercies.

Knowing that Miounne was behind the counter—was always behind the counter—did not making seeing her any easier. Did not make her feel less small and lost. 

From her spot at the entryway she watched, off to the side and unobtrusive to the flow of patrons and adventurers. Miounne was the eye of a storm and as much in her element as she had always been, a warm smile and a spot of radiance in the chaos of the room. 

I’m an emissary come from Ul’Dah, she practiced for the thousandth time since she boarded the airship to Gridania. I have a message for the Elder Seedseer from the Sultana herself.

Making herself taller than she felt, Serella drew herself up to her full height and stepped inside.

Just beyond the threshold, the air became immediately heavier with the warmth of a roaring hearth and the scent of the pastries baking within it. She knew without looking that the source of that rich, sweet scent was a batch or two of Miounne’s special butter biscuits. 

She swallowed around the rapid tightening in her throat and only stepped into line for the counter when she was somewhat confident that she could properly work her jaw. It still conspired to strangle her every word by the time the person in front of her concluded their business with the guild. 

“My, my! A new face to the Carline Canopy!” Miounne said before she had even reached the counter. “I thought I saw you hovering by the door—” 

In spite of herself, Serella smiled and thought, of course you did with an old and dust-covered fondness. Miounne was never one to miss when a wayward soul hesitated in the threshold. don’t be shy! Come, come, let’s get you registered—”

Serella had never been a new face to the Canopy—could not be—

When she finds her voice it’s a rusty thing, and it scrapes her throat on the way out as she croaks, “Oh, I’ve been here before.”

“Have you?” Miounne startles, a well-worn leather tome balanced in her hand. “I’ve never forgotten a single face that’s made it to Carline Canopy, surely—”

“Serella Arcbane. I came here—” 

I was always here. My name is carved on one of the spools of the waterwheel outside, right next to yours. We put it on the underside so it was no one’s secret but ours.

In the gap of the sentence, Miounne had cast a simple incantation and watched the pages flutter to an earlier entry in the book, her name writ neatly in Miounne’s own hand. “—Goodness, but it has been a while since you’ve been here!” she gasped when she saw the date. “That was, goodness that was mere days after the Calamity! There were so many to tend to in those days—”

“A lot was happening back then.” Serella rasped. “It’s fine.”

“Yes…” Miounne said, soft and distant, her eyes drifting for a moment in search of a thing she couldn’t name. 

The moment was over before it had a chance to settle, Miounne deliberately brightening as she said, “Please, let me reintroduce myself, then: I am Mother Miounne, proprietess of the Carline Canopy! And it is an honor and a privilege to work with you!”

With a flourish, the book was tucked away under the counter and she returned the whole of her focus to the person in front of her. She held out her hand to shake, the picture of warmth and geniality. 

Same as Miounne always was. The sunshine in the eye of a storm.

In the instant that their hands touched, Serella felt herself in patchwork, the stitches coming undone and leaving her in the fraying pieces of herself. Every little quilt of memory with Miounne’s hand in hers fell into a messy little pile in her mind.  

She was five summers old, with a wicker basket of blackberries sat between them, sticky hands and purple-tinted smiles with Miounne as they watched the sunset from the top of the treeline, the berries and the climb their little secrets. 

She was nine summers old, and she can’t make her voice work around the stitches on her neck and face. Still, she keeps trying to sign an apology to Miounne for upsetting her so. It’s hard to sign when her hands are held so, so tightly.

She was ten and seven summers old, and she feels the tremor in Miounne through their laced fingers long before it’s felt through the timid kiss they share. It’s not the first time they’ve done it, but it was the first time it felt like both a promise and a choice.

She was twenty and one summers old, and Miounne tells her, “No matter what happens, what you face out there…you can come to me. You know that, right?” It feels like the truth. She accepts the offer with tangled fingers and kisses pressed to pristine knuckles. Together, they become the promise and the choice. 

She was twenty and five summers old, and when she stumbles out of the tree canopy and into Carline she does so yelling her beloved’s name around a soot-choked sob. As Miounne bandages her burned hands and asks for her name, only to be confused to find it already there, she understands that she lost more than a few days when Dalamud fell.

She was thirty summers when she shook Miounne’s hand as a stranger and nearly forgot her rehearsed line and why she was back here to even begin with until she reluctantly took her hand back.

“I’m an emissary come from Ul’Dah. I have a message for the Elder Seedseer from the Sultana herself.” she recited aloud, an announcement and reminder both.

She is a stranger here. She can never go home again.

[brineffxiv]

So the white auracite will not do it alone, we shall have to find a method by which mind and soul both may be transferred.

Well, best report our progress to Tataru and Krile...

Uwaaa!

Estinien! The last time I saw you you were about to be murdered by Zenos, how'd you get out of that?

Ah, I'm going to find out I suppose?

...as is Krile? I wonder does one person's use of the Echo trigger it in other people close by? Since we can't use it by choice, yet it seems we're both having the vision at the same time.

And then an awesome battle happened that just looks like so much nonsense in all my screencaps. Boo.

Except this one. This one looks pretty cool. Wow, Zenos is huge... I am looking disrespectfully...

...So are you dead or not? Are you, soul and body reunited, alive again? Or are you some kind of neo-Ascian that just happens to be inhabiting his own original body? I get it makes no difference to you, but I need to know these things, okay?

Oh! Oh, and then he pulled the Ascian escape trick and vanished into a portal of darkness! I wasn't fast enough to catch it though...

And of course the Garleans are going to assume that Estinien and Gaius killed Varis, because who would believe the truth here? Though no one seemed to be shocked by Zenos disappearing so maybe not.

Oh no. One of these again. Mercy, I beg you.

Of course they made a new Ultima Weapon.

Augh! There's a person melded into the back of it. I shouldn't be shocked by the things Garlemald will do to its own at this point, and yet I am.

You know I don't do it on purpose, Estinien!

All the powers of an Ascian without the uniting motive or code underlying it all. What indeed will Zenos do from here? Probably something that will result in us fighting, if I had to guess.

Makes me wonder what happened to Zenos in the alternate timeline that prevented this same sequence of events from happening there? Maybe it was time... if Estinien and Gaius weren't working together to eliminate Black Rose, then Varis might have had the supply of it he needed at a time before Zenos reached the imperial palace. And Estinien was only working with Gaius because Tataru and Krile had hired him to eliminate Black Rose, which was necessary because the Scions were indisposed...

Nerva... is that Varis' Uncle or Cousin? He was also Varis' rival for the throne back in Heavensward, if I recall correctly, so he should be the obvious choice for a new leader, I'd think.

These guys don't say who they're championing. I wonder who the other contenders are?

Oh? Who is this...

You can see souls too?

I don't trust guys in robes. Who was your old master, mysterious new character?

...two things.

1) How do you know about Zodiark? Only the Ascians talk about Zodiark, and you're not dressed like an Ascian. I mean, you've got a spooky robe, but it's not the right robe, yeah?

2) I figured Zenos would be going after Hydaelyn, because if I understood everything Emet told me, Zodiark is currently fractured into 14ths strewn across the remaining Reflections and the Source. If Zenos wants to fuse himself with a God like he did with Shinryu, isn't he going after the weaker target?

Aaand we're in Eulmore, in the Derelicts, and there's a mysterious figure here too...

What the-?

Ardbert!?

...okay clearly you're not the real Ardbert because Ardbert is part of me now, but... I don't know what's going on yet.

[witnessourescape]

On Omega's "failed messiah" symbolism

How can the murderer robot from outer space be something like a Messiah?

In this post, I'll take a look at Omega's design, Omega's themes and Omega's battles.

1. On Omega's designs:

First we must understand that FFXIV Omega's designs are full of angelic/divine symbolism, but it isn't something we normally see in-game as we're too worried about larboard/starboard to pay attention. They feature feathers and wings everywhere. I'll put some examples here.

(Look at the Ω on that forehead!)

The best, greatest design is Final Omega.

With its six arms and upper half that looks like a seated person, it reminds me of Avalokiteśvara, the Thousand-Armed and Thousand-Eyed Bodhisattva of mercy.

Final Omega features a three-part halo that unites to "download" its body, like the christian Holy Trinity that's both three persons and one person at the same time.

How can a being like Final Omega signify salvation?

Just look at how many robed hands are trying to climb its body! I love that tiny little hand under its chin :) It's something that we couldn't see normally but messing with the models allows us to.

So we have Beetle Form that is elegant, full of silver and black feathers; Omega-M and Omega-F feature feathers and wings on their designs, and Final Omega itself is a legit bodhisattva, almost drowning in the sea of people trying to climb it to safety. Final Omega's face has some kind of shellshock expression -- a thousand-yard stare in a serious face. It has seen a lot of suffering and it is swimming in a sea of suffering.

2. On Omega's musical themes:

I've talked about From the Heavens in a previous post. I'll do it again here, but first I want to say that the expression "from the heavens" can both mean "Omega crashing onto Hydaelyn" and "Jesus' Second Coming", which isn't a stretch because Omega declares its Second Coming in-game. I'll get to that soon.

First, we got From the Heavens:

Our shadows lost in light, this life A fleeting kiss Hark! Temptation rings! Virtue slips through hands a-clenching wicked fruit Passion festers, black’ning sinless souls to root Sink’neath dark waters Drink deep, we suffer Drowning, drowning, drowning, drowning Irons sundered Paradise plundered Come welcome this Come welcome this Destiny Virtue slips through hands a-clenching wicked fruit Passion festers, black’ning sinless souls to root Sickles grate on heaven’s gate their fields ignored Seeking sinners deathlessly they reap discord As two become one Here ends this, our journey Never-ending, onward march! Witness our escape This our escape, this our escape This our escape, this our escape This our escape, this our ascension

Which is clearly a description of a Calamity related to hubris, the "blackening of souls", sin, temptation, and so on. The people singing it attain ascension in the very end, eScaping from the calamity. Who are those people? Those shadowless people that lost their shadows in the light?

The most interesting part is that it's sung in first person plural, ends with an ascension, and then comes eScape, which is sung in first person singular:

A drifting tender Come ride, heroes, ride Her galleon severed Away with the tide The stormheads gather Come ride, heroes, ride Illusions scattered Away with the tide Why Do weathered warriors wander their way whither wanting wonders wait Hark the heralds, anchors aweigh! Hither happens mine escape Freedom forgone, sinking apace. Comets crumble, Phoebus fades Under cosmic clamor decayed, hides a path untaken Ancient echoes Come ride, heroes, ride In deafening silence Away with the tide A wave of hazard Come ride, heroes, ride A-whorling inward Away with the tide Time Stellar stories starward bestrewn, slipping sidewise, see, they're snakes Twixt the leaves you'll find naught amiss—missing aughts and crossing fates Freedom surgent shifting ahead, comets dancing in her wake To the cosmic clarion's accord, along the path not taken Try, dare the dead tread ahead on a road that is borrowed design, Through the sum of their sons do they seek tomorrow Tonight, witness then as the end shall begin what was final Their lies, folding back, further back, ever back to the primal

Most of it is Omega's -- the people who ascended in the end of From the Heavens? -- escaping from a calamity. The "mine escape" means it's Omega itself singing it. The last part takes a break from describing the escape and turns to tell about how the calamity was felt: the dead walking ahead on a road that is borrowed -- not theirs --, seeking "tomorrow" through their descendants.

The end begins what is final: the cycle of birth and destruction and the Alpha and the Omega.

Their lies -- whose lies? -- fold back to the beginning. Could it be the ones that also lied in Invincible?

Lasciate Ogne speranza These memories ache with the weight of fate Ever we fight Never we fly Ever we fall Forever we fall Now breathe deep of the darkness beneath the flood Where all of the proud angels drink to their deeds of blood Their lies, twisted and torn, into dreams they're spun Yet ever we still stand tall Invincible Never we fall

Now that we've seen that Omega is an angelic being/bodhisattva with a backstory of Calamities and of having failed to protect its people, let's go to what it says through its fights.

3. On Omega's battles

The arena for Alphascape 4.0 is called Creation, Omega does a Genesis imitation where it becomes man and woman from another one's image instead of creating them from its own image -- while constantly creating life during the raid series --, and Alphascape 3.0 (Savage) got some surreal name attacks such as MRV Missile Kyrios, Long Needle Kyrios, Wave Cannon Kyrios, Condensed Wave Canon Kyrios and Guided Missile Kyrios, all while in Pantokrator Mode.

Wikipedia: Kyrios appears about 700 times in the New Testament, usually referring to Jesus. Wikipedia: In Christian iconography, Christ Pantocrator (Greek: Χριστὸς Παντοκράτωρ)[1] is a specific depiction of Christ. Pantocrator or Pantokrator, usually translated as "Almighty" or "all-powerful", is derived from one of many names of God in Judaism.

In Alphascape 4.0 Savage, when it changes phases, Omega goes:

Omega: Experiment concluded. I am the Alpha. I am the Omega. Wikipedia: Alpha (Α or α) and omega (Ω or ω) are the first and last letters of the Greek alphabet, and a title of Christ and God in the Book of Revelation. Book of Revelation 22:13: I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End.

Omega's enrage in Alphascape 4.0 Savage is:

Omega: <blip> <bleeeeeep> Witness...my coming... I bring...reward...and retribution...for all! Book of Revelation 22:12: Look, I am coming soon! My reward is with me, and I will give to each person according to what they have done.

The text in Japanese makes it even clearer that Omega is quoting the Book of Revelation:

A Japanese translation for Rev 22:13 and 22:13: 見よ、わたしはすぐに来る。報いを携えて来て、それぞれの行いに応じて報いる。わたしはアルファであり、オメガである。 Romaji: Mite yo, watashi wa sugu ni kuru. Mukui wo tazusaete kite, sorezore no okonai ni ōjite mukuiru. Watashi wa arufa de ari, omega de aru. Japanese text: ワタシはアルファであり、オメガである！/ ガガ……ガガガガガガ……見よ、ワタシはすぐに来る……！報いを……携え……それぞれに……報いを……！ Romaji: Watashi wa arufa de ari, omega de aru! / Gaga… gagagagaga… Mite yo, watashi wa sugu ni kiru! Mukui wo… tazusae… sorezore ni… mukui wo…! Direct translation: I am the Alpha and the Omega! / Gaga… gagagagaga… Behold, I come quickly! Rewards (direct object)… I bring… To all… Rewards (direct object)…! My translation: I am the Alpha and the Omega! / <blip><bleep>… And, behold, I come quickly! … And my reward… to give every man… shall be…! Official text: I am the Alpha. I am the Omega. <blip><bleeeeeep>Witness…my coming… I bring…reward…and retribution… for all!

Why is Omega literally Christ in the XIV universe, then?

If you look at my previous post, I theorize Omega was created to halt the Apocalypse. In a way, Omega sounds like a failed mechanic messiah: created as hope for its people, it failed to save them from not one but two calamities -- the Final Days themselves and the Sundering -- and ended up not even dying with them, but being one of the four survivors along with the three Unsundered: Elidibus, Emet-Selch and Lahabrea. Christ died for the sins of all humanity, came back to life, ascended to the heavens and made his second coming from the heavens; Omega at first ascended in a weird way -- two or more people becoming Omega, maybe, like sacrifices were required to summon Zodiark and Hydaelyn? --, and then did not die, and made its second coming for nothing, saving no one.

Or did it die in a way?

Why does Omega first appears before you as a rusty, old Level Checker? Like it was underwater for some time -- drowning, drowning, drowning, drowning; drink deep of the darkness beneath the flood --, like the First's Amaurot...?

Thanks for reading! :)

[ofdragonsdeep]

30: Abstracted

The great wyrm Midgardsormr offers the burden of the future.

The first few thin rays of dawn over the highlands of Coerthas found Ar’telan awake, to his eternal regret.

There were any number of reasons that could drag Ar’telan from his bed, and for a mercy today’s was one of the more mild causes. He was gathering bark from the spruce trees in the area, one eye open to see if he could spot the culprit of the recent spate of felled trees the area had suffered. Fearless though many of Ishgard’s botanists seemed to be, they at least acknowledged that he was less likely to end up as snapped as the branches if the culprit was a particularly nasty specimen of wildlife.

It was relaxing, after a fashion. His hands worked in quiet rhythm, nails scraping against the bark before he took out a knife to score a little of it from somewhere the tree would not miss, then stashing his prize in the bag he had been given for the purpose. The snowfall was light enough not to register, but thick enough to crunch beneath his boots in a satisfying way. And it kept his mind distracted from the thoughts which wished to plague it.

“Thine endeavours seem without purpose, yet thou art devoted to them nonetheless. What driveth thee?”

Midgardsormr’s voice was not surprising, but always unexpected. His avatar manifested in a tiny spark of aether, languidly beating wings keeping him aloft to watch as Ar’telan sliced another sample of bark from its kindly donor.

“It’s helping people,” he said, not needing to move his hands for Midgardsormr to divine his words. Midgardsormr watched as he moved between the trees again.

“Even when thine allies have turned to enemies, and there is no promise that these souls will not likewise betrayeth thee?”

“They don’t have to give me anything. That’s the point.” He looked down at the piece of bark in his hands, ran the tips of his fingers over it to feel the rough surface. “I have less time to suffer from betrayal than the lifetime of a dragon, anyway. So perhaps it is easier.” Midgardsormr’s eyes were on the buildings in the distance, watching with the quiet mournfulness with which he always carried himself.

“And if thy love moved away from you?”

Ar’telan sighed, shaking his head.

“He won’t.” He sat down in the little patch of ground beneath the tree’s tall branches that remained stubbornly clear of snow, hand resting against a raised leg. “Does that happen to dragons? Do mated couples fracture with time and trouble? Or is that a mortal concept?” Midgardsormr fluttered down to join him, sitting his small form upon a nearby rock. He did not seem bothered by the cold or the snow - Ar’telan was not entirely sure if he truly manifested for anyone other than him, though he was not keen to test it in Ishgard proper for obvious reasons.

“To be a mate is a contract not lightly undertaken,” he replied. “It is more and yet less than thy mortal definitions. Even across the valley of stars and the inevitability of death doth the bond endure.” Ar’telan’s eyes found the flags flying from the top of the keep at Dragonhead, and wondered.

“You have learned of us, then, to know that it does not mean such to man,” he surmised. “The stories that Yasyle told me of Shiva-”

“Shiva understood,” Midgardsormr said. “Though I was deep in slumber when my children made their choices. In granting them the freedom to live, didst I forsake mine own.” His eyes, tiny points of burning aether that belied his tiny form, regarded Ar’telan levelly. “There is an echo in the souls of thee and thine of a time which knew not death, this I see in thy fractured aether. Oft have I found myself curious of the source, though even when I first did set foot upon this star was it broken.”

“There is nothing wrong with being mortal,” Ar’telan said. Midgardsormr inclined his head.

“So far from our home, my children’s children know more and more the embrace of death. A tragic, flickering candle flame that our song knoweth not how to sing of.” He settled into a position not unlike a sleeping cat, but with his neck still raised, wings tucked in close to his back. “Here more than anywhere else has the blood of my line been spilled. Even Meracydia knew not its breadth.” His gaze went to the rising sun, a huff of breath accompanying his thought. “But it is the whims of your deathless, few though they are, that drive us here. A bitter truth.”

“Could it be stopped?” Ar’telan asked, and Midgardsormr sighed.

“My son knoweth naught but rage, his song a discordant, screeching melody, his continued life not his own. His is not an anger which mortal hearts can quell.” A soft puff of breath left a line of melted snow in the wake of its blue fire. “Thy fire burneth bright, even severed from thy mother as thou art. Perhaps thy hand could grant him succor.”

“It seems a cruel price to pay,” Ar’telan said, and Midgardsormr inclined his head.

“So are all prices. History demandeth no less to those who wouldst forge it,” he agreed. “To safekeep thy beloved and thy people, though in but half of the life of the youngest dragons all memory of thee shall fade - ‘tis not a futile quest. Thy lives are as grains of sand, but each shineth bright in spite of thy ephemeral nature.” His tail swished back and forth as he thought, and Ar’telan could not help but imagine what might have happened if the true great wyrm that he was had thought to do the same. “Our songs shall heal, though the notes be ever sorrowful. In this thy deeds shall be remembered, even long after thy mortal kin hath forgotten.”

Ar’telan held out a hand in offering, and Midgardsormr considered it for a few moments, before flapping over to sit upon it. Ar’telan got to his feet, free hand raised to his forehead to shield his eyes from the glare of the newly-risen sun.

“Should it be for mortals to decide?” he asked, and Midgardsormr made a sorrowful noise.

“Mine own hath decided already, in times long lost to memory. Such is our nature that we see the world as unchanging, with ancient eyes scarred by conflict and loss. If the future art thine to have, then thee must forge it.” His tail swished from side to side to keep his balance as Ar’telan walked, striking out for the path back to Dragonhead. “If it remaineth with mine own, then from thee it will be taken.”

“I wish there was an answer which did not require bloodshed,” Ar’telan said, slipping his hands into his pockets for warmth as he walked. Midgardsormr shook his head.

“‘Tis the unending nature of war, mortal. We but pray for time to breathe.” Ar’telan sighed, thinking of the weary knights in Dragonhead, of Estinien lost to Nidhogg’s rage in the Steel Vigil, of frozen corpses lining the trail for both dragon and man. How much he would give for Haurchefant to be able to send his knights back home to their families for the last time, for his kindness not to turn to anguish over every coffin escorted to the Steps of Faith, to take his hand and tell him that it was done, that they were free of blade and bow and moved forward with word and deed. How deep the ache in Midgardsormr’s soul to know that his child was forever lost to reason, to entrust his fate to those who had dragged the conflict across the centuries. How much the ancient Wyrm had already trusted him with - to walk the path with him, to believe him more than Hydaelyn’s shield. Minfilia had been aghast to see that he had lost the Blessing, but Ar’telan understood it for what it was, he thought.

The strength of mortals is not in what they borrow from the endless, but in the paths they forge themselves.

It would be worth it. It had to be. Their lives flickered like the flames of a candle, but they brought light.

[inviouswriting]

Memories of the past.

Some spoilers for 5.3.

Mentions of @meepsthemiqo​ and @maiden-born-in-snow​ ‘s characters.

“The past is something you shouldn’t remember. No matter how many times you come to me. I won’t show you what you came from. It is forbidden. Do you wish to forsake your life and what you know now? For something that will ruin your very life? For you, and your husband. I will never show you what became of you in amaurot. Your image, is in my likeness, I gave you my name so you may never remember your old existence. You were miserable. You should be grateful for all you have gained. Not many who have died get that chance.” Kivera’s voice is full of anger as she speaks to the miqo. Kiya’s ears are pinned to her head at being scolded.

“Everyone else knows who they once were.”

“Their circumstances are different than yours. You were not meant to survive.”

“Then why am I alive!?!” Kiya glowers at Kivera. Everyone of her friends knows who they once were. She knows nothing except a name. A parting gift from Hades. She learned Hecate was her former name.

“Bite your tongue! You are alive because Hydaelyn wanted you, and I took mercy on you.”

“But why your image? If this isn’t my face then what have you of me?” Kivera sighs.

“Because I am vain. I gave you my face, as a way to ensure you don’t remember Amaurot. Otherwise it breaks the magic.”

“Magic?” Kiya lifts her head.

“You think the magic to grant life is free? No, the Underworld requires a payment of some sort in the act of mass resurrections.  On that day there was several souls sent to rebirth. You among them, but yours had a price to make my world happy.” Kivera folds her arms and leans back while Kiya keeps her head down feeling frustrated that she can’t remember a single thing.

“What was taken?”

“Your memories, and image. You are not to remember them. Or your life is forfeit. Much like the same conditions given to me, for Damien. I can’t tell him, clue him, inform him of my being. Just as you are not suppose to remember yourself, what and how you died. It breaks the magic by Chronos. You have a family to live for. Specially that one unborn inside you. Go back to your husband!” Kivera turns on her heel to leave Kiya, wanting to put distance and make it harder for her to ask her questions.

“Why are you so cruel about this?” Kiya feels tears brim her eyes.

“Because.. I’ve seen you die. And the impact of your death on your husband. Go back to him, and have that child. You have no business with the dead.” Kivera waves Kiya off as she wanders back to her home realm. 

Kiya slams her fists on the ground and screams in anguish over Kivera frustrating her more than Elidibus did. Kivera knows she’ll come to resent her if she ever revealed the manner in her death. She had to keep a promise to Hecate, that Kiya never remembers the lonely book lover who read her favorite passage as she died.

How Hecate wished for the life Kiya has now, with her own knight in shining armor to love and be loved by. Kivera envied her, able to live a life she herself never got. Never to experience children, to be a surrogate and watch over Ysayle as she grows. 

Kiya goes back home and stumbles through The Pillars empty-hearted as she deals with the rejection of never knowing what her life use to be. Kivera was determined she never remember, she felt different after that exchange with the reaper. Lost in thought, she bumps into Aymeric.

“Kiya? By the Fury, you’re frozen again!” Kiya hears the tone in his voice and knows he’s annoyed that she isn’t dressed for the weather in Coerthas.

“I just got here...” Kiya murmurs under her breath. Aymeric sighs and winds his arms around her.

“I take it didn’t go so well.” He earns a nod. He had pried Estinien for information about the elusive reaper and her methods. He was told, it is better to not bother the supernatural one about the matters of the dead. 

“Aye.. she wouldn’t budge an inch on the subject.” She looks up and Aymeric’s expression shifts. Surprise on his face.

“Kiya.. your eyes.” He cups her face and lifts her enough for him to get a better look.

“What about them?” 

“They’re different..”

Kiya looks puzzled till Aymeric ushers them quickly home to show her a mirror. Once Kiya does, she noticed that her eyes are different. Her left is darker like the reapers.

“I wonder if this is the magic she talked about...” Kiya wonders. Aymeric sighs.

“Either way love, if she is adamant on you not remembering. We should trust her. She knows that magic better than anyone here.”

“I know Aymeric! She made it painfully obvious... It just...” Kiya buries her face into his chest.

“It’s just?” He parrots her.

“It’s just frustrating when everyone else is able to remember their past lives, and I can’t! Not even a single moment beyond a name.”

“You’re not meant to be like everyone else.” Aymeric says without missing a beat.

“What do you mean?” Kiya narrows her eyes.

“I love you for your unique charm. Perhaps you not remembering this ancient life. Means you stay different.” Aymeric finishes, and Kiya feels more frustrated, but knows he is doing his best to cheer her up.

“Not always are we meant to have the answers we desire. Sometimes never knowing is better than the pain of a memory that lasts forever.” He sees her face scrunch up in memory of those whom died. The faces of the ones she had to slay. She raises her fists and hits his chest.

“Don’t you dare make me remember now! Don’t you dare!” Aymeric just wraps his arms around her.

“Why would you desire to remember your own death of a life you didn’t agree with?” Kiya softly headbutts his chest.

“Stop! I get it...”

“Do you?” His hands go to her face and tugs her cheeks.

“I do... reluctantly. I just wish I can tell something to our child when she is old enough like Meeps, and Shuri can tell their children. I don’t have anything..” Aymeric sighs.

“You have so much you can tell her love. Our love, your feats of bravery. Every single victory, friends, family, what you left, what you lost, what you gained. How you took down behemoth sized monsters, stop calamities.. My love. Look at me.” Kiya raises her head to him.

“Hmm?” She feels a kiss on her lips, then a press of his forehead to hers.

“Trust me. You don’t need to remember. The past is sometimes best left in the past.” Kiya puffs her cheeks and Aymeric squishes her face.

“For you... I won’t chase the memories..” She places a hand over the swell of her stomach.

“Good, good... now.. my love. Go rest for me?” Kiya nods, and is ushered by him to their room. She notices herself in a passing mirror how her skin was darker, and the eyes now. 

Her skin from their vacation during their honeymoon. She looks at the marks on her face, she had drawn them back on for a bit.

“I hope they’re right.”

[thebeauregardbros]

A collection of unfinished character writing drafts.

Meet my character [here].

1: Things

Alus loved his things. His antique teacups he’d carefully procured for his café, his lavish clothes he was so specific about - always cleaning them with the fanciest of alchemetical chemicals to keep them pure white. He loved his shoes, the ribbons he braided into his hair, the silk flower accessories that completed his every look - He loved hair brushes, his rare makeup products, all these things that made him feel unique and powerful to be himself.

These things were all pointless in reality - things that could rip and break at any moment, things that were not useful in the life of a war field healer. Though he had the respect of a commanding hero in the Maelstrom and a Warrior of Light, the whispers of his overgrown vanity for things so specific to his tastes flourished always - more every time he showed up wearing an even more expensive garment of fragile lace and silks. Alus was a kind and floaty person, however, that even if someone were to decide they disliked him, it would rarely ever escalate to a truly bad place - Alus was rarely ever bothered by others’ negative emotions, and always patiently tried to help them out of it in his solid belief that sadness and anger tends to come from a person’s own self instead of others. Alus rarely blamed; he did not believe in the idea of it.

Alus could explain about the subjects of his vanity.. but he knew he was ultimately foolish in their eyes, and he knew their ideas were valid about him.

-

2: Death

Alus often did his best to finish his enemies off nonlethally. But sometimes, people still die. A person with a preexisting medical condition, whether known or not, could get one last push to knock on death’s door. Alus lamented for ages over the deaths he caused, directly or indirectly, and regularly prayed for mercy on the souls of his fallen enemies. He knew it to not be enough, but he also knew

-

3: Psychology

Alus had a problem with truly ever hating anyone. In his view it was not a problem, but to his brother - and nearly everyone else at war - it was something unnecessary and foolish. He was often strong enough to hold his ideals up, but when he failed, his failures felt all the more horrible and self-inflicted. Yet he still didn’t learn to think differently - even when he witnessed his friends die in front of him, even when he was held for moons in secret in a Garlean camp and tortured endlessly, even when he faced the monstrosity of Zenos - he felt pity more than anger. He had no desire to kill anyone. That is not to say he did not when he had to, but he never felt the judgement of Nald and Thal could ever possibly be just - not when he knew that any villain could reform themselves. He truly believed, above all, that every single person was born with good in their heart. He would betray the twelve to keep this ideal in his heart. Even when the warriors of darkness told him that would bring an inevitable end to his world, Alus just... did not care.

Alus understood that the death of one could save many more. But he still reached out his hand to any he ever felt could possibly take it. The scars on his body from the various stabs, slashes, and burns of betrayal in his trust made most of the skin under his clothes feel numb. Yet he did not stop. Why?

“I took that choice. I know that even if they do not understand why I fight for them, I live and continue to fight wanting one more smile. Is that not why you fought, as well?” he said to the jailed warlord. “I understand that my stance is oft foolish. But like you, I am stubborn.”

-

4: Stargazing

Alus was never one to be up during the night. Historically, it seemed like he hadn’t truly stargazed in years now - not since his childhood days travelling by caravan with his father and brother, mischievously waking up in the ill hours of the night to climb up on top of their carriage and lay facing up, meditating for seeming bells, staring in wonder at the beautiful sparkling gemstones of Thanalan’s sky. In one such event the siblings slept on top of the carriage, and a frantic Gwenneg Beauregard woke up in a panic trying to find them again.

Whilst his years at school, he had a strict curfew. ‘Twas that, or

-

5: Childhood

In childhood - tales of heroes were treasures, valued like prized rubies or diamonds or hundreds of coins of gold, unable to be lifted by the small fragile hands of the young cat-tailed twins. A pat on the head, a warm snuggle in a shared blanket - their eyes shined in response and reflection to these sparkling metaphorical stones, listening intently for every possible tip to also one day save the world from dragons, evil encroaching empires and even simple bandits threatening the dignity of pretty maidens - in such of saying mean things, of course.

The silver-haired man looked nothing like them; his limbs were long and lanky, his ears pointed from his sides - but he was also their hero as an adoptive father, a man to give them a name. He was a man who purchased dreams and stories in exchange for walking legs, always doing his best to bring the boys a new hope for their world; their happiness and smiling faces was the sparkling stony treasure to him, far more valuable than money or personal romance. Their life was hard, but full of color and wonder, never ceasing. When times grew minimal, the silver-haired Gwenneg brought the brothers to hear heroes’ stories first-hand from the source - Alus and Arc’s beliefs in heroism never ceased, was never doubted, their love for stories only increased as time passed. They trusted the world, they adored the world, they wished to grow up strong to join the ranks of Hydaelyn’s chosen to also protect this world from ‘baddies’, making more and more good-hearted friends along the way. To Gwenneg, he had created heroes of inevitable time, he created the knowledge two rowdy twins would impart kindness onto others as he did upon them. To Gwenneg, he himself was a hero; he would be there to support them.

At least, that was a happy ending that they all wished would exist.

One small mistake. One small misunderstanding, and like a wick – a flame blown out, a story ended unlike any he had previously told them. The question as to why such an occurrence existed in a land the brothers believed to be full of wondrous heroism, unwavering victories even at the last second - it eats away at the back of their brains to this day, resurfacing within every moral injustice that occurred in front of them long after. Although the calamity of the fallen moon was ultimately a victory for Eorzea, their father - as well as many others - still perished. The world was still cracked and destroyed. Being a hero was just not enough to save everything on that day.

Alus and Arc - still but teenagers - found themselves incredibly lost. While Alus passively followed suggestions of friends of family to become a private school student, funded by the generousity of Gwenneg’s former companions - Arc seemed to disassociate entirely and try to find his own path. Alus spent the next several years with his heads in the clouds, quiet and unsocial.

-

6: A Letter

Dear Father

‘Tis hath been the longest journey at this time. I wish nothing more than dost progress far away from this living hell; For the chaos hath been brought upon us of our own undoing, and dost we respect an inevitable incoming judgement: One I shall never agree with, yet still ethically cannot seek much more in hopes. Hath I became a true pessimist when it was I who believed to have kindness in mine heart? Tired am I to play devil’s advocate when I hath been trying much too hard to play an angel to get into the 7th and highest heaven. I must forgive.

I am no longer a warrior of light.

-

7: Hero

Passion, bravery, a will of protection above all else - duty, honor. These are the things that made Alus fight so well. A pure heart, a righteous ideal. Nothing could stop him - nothing, he had felt, in that moment of clashing metal.

But as the villain fell to his knees - Alus felt a chill go up his spine. His hand suddenly felt so sore from gripping the hilt of his sword so intensely and for so long, yet he only noticed it now. His eyes widened, his sword arm went limp, and his body nearly staggered backwards - He could feel the eyes of his military superiors on his back though they may not be there. He could feel the eyes of far-off aspiring adventurers wince up in disappointment if he dropped his sword. He did not understand what to believe in that very moment, that quick - short moment of weakness where everything in his head came crashing down.

Arc had placed a hand on Alus’ arm, and swiftly landed a kick to the villain’s face - finally felling him to the ground and knocking him unconscious. Alus could feel his heart tighten in that moment. “H… he’s al..right .. right…?” Alus spoke quietly to his brother, his voice shaking and cold.

-

8: Inner Thoughts

I wanted to be a hero.

What kind of hero murders those just like him?

Those with dreams just as passionate, and those who didn’t even know why they were here?

Those who were innocent until proven guilty, and I have the right to make the judgment? I have the right to play god, to decide who lives and who dies?

[voidsentprinces]

WoL: Man! I thought we were done after the seven boss, but then BAM! There's number eight.

Alisaie: I just want to go home now...

WoL: WAIT! Hold on Alisiae! Doth mine eyes deceive me or tis that the great tree of Melphina! Coursing with knowledge yet unlocked from the...okay enough with this GET THE FUCK OUT HERE!

Igeyorhm: Ah, the Champion of Hydaelyn foresaw my presence before I was even known. Truly your power over light is great.

WoL: You guys...literally show up after I kill every boss. Its like you take turns and spin the bottle. You either kiss Elidibus or show up and monologue at me. That poor unkissed bastard.

Igeyorhm: Laugh all you like. I am still one of the most feared and skilled Ascians in the Source!

WoL: Impressive, you can frighten adventurers who still believe that paissa are threatening.

Alisaie: Have you seen their EYES!? They have NO SOUL!

Igeyorhm: Ah, but another retort is the only thing the Champion of Light has going for him. Enough to be sad and lonely enough to use this child as bait to lure me out.

Alisaie: He is the Warrior of Light, he'd never do something so terri-!

WoL: Totally did just that.

Alisiae: More than once in a week.

Igeyorhm: And you top it all off, you just play the tough guy, this invincible warrior who no one can beat. The blessing of light is probably the best thing that happened to you.

WoL: Either that or Emet-Selch having a crush on me.

Alisaie: Who is-

WoL: Shhhh...shh...spoilers.

Igeyorhm: Well there is one thing even the Blessing of Light can't grant you. And that is the ability to save those who have fallen in service to your cause!

WoL: I may or may not just level alts to Post-ARR to keep Moenbryda ali--I MEAN What do you mean I can totally revive Hauchefaunt!

Igeyorhm: ...We'll be taking the Eyes of Nidhogg, if you don't mind.

WoL: REALLY!? Who among YOU is gonna take it from me. That'd be a neat trick.

Igeyorhm: Indeed! But what is an Ascian without her lovely kin?

Lahabrea: It has been too long, champion of Hydael--!

WoL: THE HEART OF SABIK!

Lahabrea: ...might you guess how I escaped our previous battle al--?

WoL: ULLLLLLTTIIIIMMMMAAAA!

Lahabrea: ...I...what are you?

WoL: Oh don't mind me. Continue please.

Lahabrea: Our...

WoL: ...

Lahabrea: Our battle at the Praeto--

WoL: PATHETIC!

Lahabrea: ENOUGH I WILL NOT BE MADE HERE TO STAND HERE AND TAKE THIS MOCKERY!

WoL: Is it me or do you sound more British now?

Alisaie: Two ascians! This cannot be good. I will back you up!

WoL: I know we like may or may not of fought in the Coils of Bahamut. Which reminds me I need to call up G'raha one of these days, but I am pleased that you believe them to be a threat. Sit back, my knife daughter. The show's about to start! Careful though, the first three rows are a spllaaaassshh zone.

Alisiae: ...what do you mean by that? W...Warrior? WARRIOR!?

WoL: *unhinged laughter*

Lahabrea: ...Igeyorhm, a thought occurs. This Warrior of Light thought he was going up against Thordan and the entire Heavens Ward. But, he's still just by himself with a small...very angry looking child. Are we sure, we are to go head to head with him again?

Igeyorhm: Please, Lahabrea. The boy is all talk. And now that Midgardsormr has broken the Blessing of Light over him. He's not even the Warrior of Light anymore. He's nothing but, a strangely dressed man wearing a Namazu head and running around naked.

WoL: Interesting theory. Tell you what, I'll give you the first shot, see how that goes.

Lahabrea: ...I think this is a trap.

Igeyorhm: Enough, you're an Ascian Prime for crying out loud. I think you've got this! Now let us KILL HIM!

*one battle later*

WoL: Man you guys are out of shape, you even did the Fusion Dance.

Alisiae: Fusion wha--.

WoL: SPOILERS KNIFE DAUGHTER! Really oughta do some cardio.

Lahabrea: I don't understand, we threw everything we had at him. How is he still standing!?

WoL: HOW!? Well its quite simple really, you see ASCIANS! You may think you got me all figured out. But, there is one thing you didn't account for. I can run Preatorium or Castrum. ONCE A DAY! Meaning my numbers, ARE NOW BIGGER THAN YOURS!

WoL, Lvl.80: Funny thing REALLY! Ya get to certain point and you can just solo things. I was just going to grind Alisaie to level 80 too but, she is still on Heavensward content. Get high enough and you're basically untouchable! My wounds heal, faster than you can make them. We could literally do this ALL day, but they put in a timer.

Alisaie: What is he?

WoL, Lvl.80: BUT! I got good news, you no longer have to wonder where your God is!

Igeoyorhm: Lord Zodiark is--.

WoL, Lvl.80: BECAUSE HE'S RIGHT HERE...and he's fresh out of mercy.

Lahabrea: *begins crying*

[chysgoda]

Eye for Eyes

On the steps of faith

Nidhogg was speaking with Estinien’s voice, but she did not listen to the words only the cadence. She knew the words already, she knew them like the taste of her own blood in her mouth and the blinding pain of magic knitting organs back together. She was nothing, her allies were fools or would abandon her. She squandered whatever illm of strength she had fighting for people who did not care for her or hers. She was nothing against the world that would soon crush her and the goddess for whom she stood champion. She no longer listened to the words her enemies spoke to try and take her power from her, but she did listen to the cadence. The pauses and swells that told her how far they had been pushed, how long she might have for her allies to patch her wounds with aether so that she might jump once more into the breach.  

Here on the steps of faith blood and sweat burned in her eyes and she hissed as white magic rebuilt the shattered bone of her hip. She’d pay for this brute force healing later, for now she bore the pain and stood up again.  The aether working in and on her would have been euphoric if she had not been in so much pain. White magic and her own blessing of light healed her hip even as she put wait on it. Her soul stone thrummed against her chest flooding her muscles with the memories of all who held the stone before her. The power of Hraesvelgr’s eye pulsed between her to her lover as they bore the weight of the power together. Through the connection, she could feel Melisande’s heartbeat and hear her inner dragon hiss defiance.  The cadence of Nidhogg’s speech was swelling as he prepared for a final strike. She adjusted her grip on her broadsword and brought her shield back in front of her. Next to her Melisande crouched ready to spring. Behind her was Alphinaud and she prayed he had the good sense to stand back, she could spare him no more thought than that.

“This is not your hand wyrm!” The voice free of Nidhogg’s rancor breathed fresh life into the hope that had been dwindling in her heart before her mind caught up to the implications of the words. Alphinaud raced to stand between her and Melisande. Her friend’s plea for final mercy burned in her soul. She took a breath feeling her lover do the same. As they exhaled their hearts beat in sync. Around her, the world and her thoughts focused into painful clarity.

Thud dub

For those we can yet save

Blood splattered on Estinien’s lips as he dug his fingers into his own throat desperately trying to retain control. He called them to action again, a demand not a plea this time.

Thud dub

For this home that we swore to defend

The three of them moved at the same time. Melisande launching into the air as she and Alphinaud sprinted. Melisande crashed into Estinien’s chest and quickly pushed the haft of her lance back and up against his throat to still the thrashing body not entirely under control of either soul. Art’imis felt the stalwart strength of Paladins past reach through her to lend steadfast strength to her lover that she might hold fast against the brute force pushing against her.

Thud dub

What is ours we keep.

Dragon fire raced down her spine and into the muscles of her legs lending her steps a speed and lightness she’d never had on her own. She outpaced Alphinaud quickly. She dropped shield and sword so that she could wrap the talons of her hellfire gauntlets around the thrice-damned eye and began to pull.

Thud dub

They leaned in together hissing at the wyrm as red rancor gleamed in jagged lines on Estinien’s cheeks. “You can not have him, Thief.” Melisande’s hissed words tasted of caustic dragon fire on Art’imis’ tongue.  Her own growl shook in her lover’s throat like thunder. “You will not take our brother from us.”

Alphinaud caught up and desperately gripped the other eye. They worked their fingers between the eyes and mutated drachenmail as Melisande pushed down harder cutting off air and trying to force Nidhogg’s attention away from the other two. The pure force of Nidhogg’s rancor erupted and burned away the protective leather of gloves and gauntlets to sear the skin and crawl along nerves leaving raw pain in its wake. Estinien said something but she did not have space for it in her mind. Instead, she screamed her defiance and pain back at both him and the wyrm. Her heart stuttered erratically as neither Hraesvelgr’s power nor her blessing of light could curb the invasive force. The muscles in her arms quivered and twitched as she bent her will to removing the damned eye even if Nidhogg’s rage burned her up from the inside out.

A hand on her shoulder brought cool relief. It did not end the pain or push the rancor from her nerves, but it dulled it enough that she could bend her full focus to her task. The eye came lose with a sickening sucking sound. She and Alphinaud stumbled back clutching the eyes. Melisande and Estinien collapsed backward.

Splendid work my dear friends, the warm thought that was not her thought forced her to look up. Her vision was blurry with blood and sweat but she saw Haurchefant and Ysael. She blinked and they were gone.

“Cast the eyes into the Abyss!” Aymeric’s hurried order cut through the growing shock. She ran to the edge of the bridge and threw the eye into the howling aether storm below.  

She staggered back to the small knot of people as the great white wyrm landed. He spoke but the adrenaline was draining out of her and shock was rushing into its place. She had not been so badly pressed since the Ultima Weapon. Hraesvelgr’s words passed by her but it seemed Aymeric was more than capable of wrapping up the farewells. When his attention turned to Melisande and herself she tried to pay attention, but with the danger past all the hurts she had ignored and all the pain she had pushed aside were rushing back. There was something that needed to happen though, something returned or taken back….

“Rest and heal chosen daughters of Hydaelyn.” What passed for a whisper from a dragon pushed past the shock and exhaustion. “When you can reach the Zenith bring back mine eye. Until then it can wait.”

She nodded and let herself drop to tired and hurt to sit properly. She stared after the dragon until Y’Stola and Antoirel found her.

[io-uzuka]

Astrologian Major Arcana

because i keep having to pull this up for reference and it’s less annoying to keep this in a place i don’t have to dig to find

images are taken from the loremonger section of ffxiv gamerescape, and are transcribed below; after transcription are my own notes, explaining which gods are mentioned and any other notes on the subject matter discussed in the quest

replacing all instances of gender with they/them and all instances of the forename being mentioned with... Forename

The Bole

Mace: Yes, I knew at once my reading was true, and that this adventurer was the astrologian I had been seeking. But now, let us see if they have the potential for greatness within them.

Look to the skies, Forename, and there you will see six stars aglow in pale yellow. This is the Bole.

This constellation is thought to be the gate to the first heavenーthe heaven which holds the World Tree. Planted by the Matron and nurtured by the Keeper, the World tree is the source from which all life is said to have sprung.

The trunk of the World Tree, or the Bole, offers protection to the weak, defending them from harm.

You have now opened that gate, and its power is yours to command.

A solid bole represents a solid foundation. It is not coincidence that this very constellation is risen to midheaven at this very momentーthe moment of a new astrologian’s birth.

Notes

The Keeper is Althyk, god of time and change. The Matron is Nophica, goddess of abundance and the harvest and Althyk’s granddaughter through Azeyma.

The Balance

Leveva: Now, Forename... and Jannequinard. We must be patient and wait for the constellation to reach its highest and brightest pointーa point at which its flow of aether is the strongest in relation to Hydaelyn.

Be patient, Forename. We are at the mercy of the stars and their movements. Only a fool believes they can manipulate the heavens. It is the heavens which manipulate us. We merely take cues from the hints they leave behind.

There, Forename! The Balance! Focus on the constellation and attune to its power.

The Balance represents the heaven of fireーa realm made prosperous by the blessing of the Traders, but at the same time, one whose equilibrium is maintained by the divine judgement of Azeyma, the Warden.

Azeyma’s might will empower those who would take up their blades and mete divine punishment in the name of the sun goddess.

And thus has the Balance burned crimson in your heart, unlocking the gate to the second heaven.

Now, let us speed ourselves to the next locationーLittle Ala Mhigo. Hm? Why so soon, you ask? Would you rather that I had you commit yourself to another several moons of using malefics to put down hedgemoles? I thought not.

Notes

The Traders are... or is, technicallyーthe god Nald’thal, who is themselves a manifestation of the twins Nald and Thal. Nald’thal serves as the god of commerce, and is patron deity to Ul’dah.

Azeyma is... ... ... Azeyma. She is the Warden, goddess of inquiry, and may have connection to the truth as a whole, as she is said to console all who would confess their crimes (as I quote from the link). Also note her link to justice as far as Leveva explains the Balance.

The Spire

Leveva: Raise your eyes to the stars, and witness the violet glow of the Spire!

In the third heaven rises an iron tower of spinning gears and taut springs constructed by the Builder Himself. It is assailed without cease by the jealous Rhalgr, but the Destroyer’s mighty levinbolts only serve to power the spire’s clockwork soul.

It is through the blessings of both creation and destruction that strength is granted to they who see their stars rise under this sign.

You have now opened the gate, and its powers is yours to command.

Using the arcana to draw upon the powers of the stars they represent. This path we walk as astrologians is called the Royal Road. The Royal Road can be treacherous and fraught with peril, but it can lead men (...and women) to greatness.

Notes

The Builder is Byregot, god of the arts and purveyor of architecture and industry. He is the elder brother of Halone and pupil of Thaliak. He is also the patron god of all Disciples of the Hand.

The Destroyer, Rhalgr, is god of, guess what, destruction. He is known as the breaker of worlds, and is the patron deity of Ala Mhigo. He serves as attendant to Nymeia and is, curiously, the father of the very same Byregot whose clockwork tower he’s trying to destroy.

The Royal Road is given as a spell in this quest. Its name evokes the real-world tarot concept, the Fool’s Journey, which is a way for novice tarot readers to memorize the twenty-one major arcana. Correct me if I’m wrong, but there’s no “official” Fool’s Journey, seeing as it’s a memorization tool/concept more than anything. Also, the Royal Road seems to be the task of being an astrologian in and of itself, as opposed to the Fool’s Journey being “just” a starter’s tool.

The Arrow.

Leveva: Now, look to the stars and behold the Arrow! The fourth heavenーor the heaven of windーwas created atop a lofty peak by Oschon, the Wanderer, whose footsteps had been guided by the Navigator. The wind that blows off Llymlaen’s seas guides the arrow fast and true, and so shall it deliver the weary souls of those trapped in the mire of confusion, indecision, overcontemplation.

The fourth heaven has opened its gates, allowing you acces to its sacred penetralia. From this day forth, its power is yours to interpret and wield. That power will further aid you as you continue to hone your skills. Now, let us return to Ishgard. I have a few words for a certain student of mine who felt inclined to forgo this particular lesson.

Notes

Oschon, the Wanderer, is the god of wanderers and vagrants and is known as the ruler of the mountains. He’s associated with continental drift and, despite commanding the element of wind over all, is the patron deity of the Miner’s Guild. He was also once worshipped as the patron deity of Nym, from whence scholars (the fairy-aided healers you know and love) originate.

Llymlaen is the Navigator, patron of Limsa Lominsa and daughter of Thaliak, alongside Nophica. It is said that she guided the remnants of a defeated armada to what is now Limsa Lominsa, and as such, some Lominsans toast to this goddess every single day at local taverns.

Both Oschon and Llymlaen apparently have connections in mythology, considering how they are respectively the deities of mountains and seas.

The Ewer

Leveva: There! The Ewer! Focus, Forename! Focus, and let the constellation’s aether twine with your own. It is said through the fifth heaven flows a mighty river carrying the water spilled forth from the Scholar’s vessel. And in that water is the knowledge of all that have come before and all who will followーthe aether spun from Nymeia’s loomーthe aether from which all magicks are drawn and to which all magicks return.

And now the power of the Ewer is forever yours, and forever shall it point you to the truth. While I cannot forgive our patron for skipping yet another of his lessons, I cannot deny the passion hidden deep beneath all his posturing may have its uses. Word of our field is spreading, and our inherent nature has begun to stir. Curiosity is proving the better motivator than skepticism and faith. Our time may come soon.

Notes

The Scholar is Thaliak, god of knowledge and ruler of rivers and wisdom. He is the teacher of Byregot, and the father of Llymlaen. He is also the patron deity of Sharlayan.

Nymeia, the Spinner, is the goddess of fate and the watcher of celestial bodies. She is often portrayed as a weaver whose preferred string is the strings of fate itself, and is thus also the patron deity of the profession. She was also the patron of Ala Mhigo for a short time during the reign of Mad King Theodoric, from 1552 to the city-state’s fall to the Garleans in 1557 (a span of 5 years). She is the younger sister of Althyk, god of time, and is the master of Rhalgr, god of destruction.

The Spear

Leveva: Well, I was certain Forename would make it, for the stars have already told me they would unlock the sixth gate here at the Steel Vigilーthe very location we ended up at, despite our unexpected ordeal. Your fate, Jannequinard... Well, I never bothered reading it, for I thought that you would skip this lesson like you have every other one!

Forename. Gaze upon the night sky and open your soul to the final constellationーthe Spear! The Spear is the gate to the sixth heaven, where the Fury resides in a palace of ice carved by her own spearーice formed of moonbeams collected by the Lover, Menphina. The Spear fills us not only with the power to overcome our enemies, but also the compassion that is necessary to grant those same enemies mercy. And now that power is yours, to see directed to those whose fates require it.

It is done. You have attuned yourself to the six lower heavens. And now that you know their strength, the true journey begins. Like I’ve said from the beginning. The stars, the heavens, the arcanaーthey know our fates, but they are fickle with their information. It is up to us to prise it from their hearts and use it in a manner that might benefit all mankind.

Notes

The Fury is Halone, patron deity of Ishgard and goddess of war. She is the daughter of Rhalgr (making her the younger sister of Byregot), is a bitter rival of Nophica, and has a close companion in Oschon. She commands the element of ice and her symbol is three spears.

Menphinia is the Lover, also associated with ice. She is the sister of Azeyma and lover of Oschon. She is heavily associated with the moon(s)ーher symbol is the full moon, she is known as the Keeper of the Twin Moons, and before Dalamud’s fall, it was known as Menphinia’s Loyal Hound. She is the goddess of love, as implied by her title.

Nocturnal Sect

Leveva: You have come far since that fateful day our paths first crossed in the Black Shroud. And now, here we are, on the cusp of your attunement with the sixth heaven. Time truly waits for no man, does it? Before we set forth on this task, I wish to teach you of a second set of starsーthe nocturnal sect.

The nocturnal sect contains those celestial bodies ruled by the two moons. I say two, because since the dawn of astrology, disciples of our field have used Dalamud in their readings. Now, even after the false moon’s fall, its position... or should I say, its absence, yet has influence over our fates.

Whereas the sun and diurnal stars represent the self, expression, the activeーand the moon and the nocturnal stars represent the unconscious, the passiveーDalamud represents, and still does represent the uncontrollable. Its power has the ability to quicken the senses, as well as provide added protection from the unknownーthings beneficial when pursuing one’s fate.

Notes

You learn Nocturnal Sect before you open the sixth gate (the Spear), hence the mild anachronism in the second sentence here.

When Leveva says “quicken the senses”, she’s referencing an old buff of Nocturnal Sect that would increase your attack speed.

Last Notes

Every god that makes up the Twelve is referenced at least once in the descriptions of the cards; none go unmentioned.

To those who haven’t unlocked/finished up AST 30-50 yet: yes, you can pull cards you technically haven’t opened the gate to yet, but for roleplay’s sake, just pretend you have no idea what the everloving fuck you just took from your deck if you do end up pulling something earlier than you learn about it in the questline.

[progeny-of-the-fury]

Reconvene: Law’s Resolution 

Log date: 9/9/17

OOC Note: The text in these logs are strictly for the readers enjoyment. Anyone using the knowledge displayed within this text without the participants knowledge risks the potential of blacklisting from future communication and roleplay. Please do not meta-game!

Tags: @lightsinshadows

To fight or not to fight; is that the question? No. The question is not whether to fight. Such is clear as day. We must fight, there is no other answer. The question is rather: What do you fight for?

Lawrence Wallace >> Static gives way to a few testing signals, the sure sign of someone who's hardly ever used a linkpearl before. "Hello? Hello?"

Adelise De’bayle>> "This is Adelise, how can I help you," a monotonous voice rings out from within the distortion after a few short seconds.

Lawrence Wallace>> "OH Adelise, right." he clears his throat, caught off-guard at the response. "I. I've been considering what you said earlier. About. Everything, really. I want to talk more."

Adelise De’bayle>> "I take it this is Mister Wallace. I am glad to hear you took our conversation to heart," she replied flatly, her tone never expressing any rise in emotion. "I am certainly available to speak more if you wished to come to my House's estate. It is stationed in the Lavender Beds. First ward, fifth plot."

Lawrence Wallace >> "Law."

Adelise De’bayle>>: "Right..." she murmured back, "any how. Speak to the front desk and let them know you are here to see me if you decide to come. They will direct you toward my chambers."

Lawrence Wallace >> "Right, right. First Ward. Fifth plot." as the pearl cut out he could be heard mumbling it to himself a few more times.

Lawrence Wallace pushes the door openly slowly, peeking his head in to be sure he got the right room. Dark, menacing, intimidating woman in a chair. Sounds right. "Uh...thank you for inviting me. I'm not sure what...what I want to talk about really, but."

Adelise De'bayle glances up from whatever documents she was scribbling away at, narrow crimson stare moving toward the Elezen as he entered. "Such a change in tone. Lose your will on the way here?" she asked out, left hand mounting her quill for the time being as she offered him her attention. "I do not imagine you came here to simply stand, so do tell what is on your mind."

Lawrence Wallace looks to the pile of books to his left, a hand pushing back through his hair. "No, it's not that. Talking to people isn't really...I'm not good at it." he clears his throat and levels a stare on her. "What do you believe is Just?"

Adelise De'bayle sat back in her chair, her hands clasping to one another as she rested them to her lap. "What do I believe to be just?" she repeated the question, her eyes closing momentarily as though to offer the idea her undivided attention. "A world where blood and countenance do not make a man. Where everyone is granted the same footing to follow their paths. Where dreams are not forsaken to sleep," her eyes peek open, "I believe the only true beings who embody what it means to be 'just' are the gods.

Lawrence Wallace presses his lips into a thin line, considering the answer. "A world where dreams are free to be followed, without barriers built by men or beast? And what of wicked men with wicked dreams? Does your Just world allow them place? What prevents them from rising?"

Adelise De'bayle: "Those who would see the world be built into that of a better place and not one of horrors," she replied simply, reaching for her quill once more. "You see. I cannot be 'just' being Adelise," the tip of her pen found its way to the sheet before her once more, the sound audible throughout the quiet room. "No... for I am a mortal, and the world around us taints us. See, rather... I intend to embody the image of the Fury. I will bring justice to this world in Her visage, as I alone have no right being the arbiter of another, as I am just as guilty of evil doings as the next. Only under Her, am I to see to the building of a truly better world."

Lawrence Wallace: "You leave my question unanswered." he comments, a hand propping up on his hip. "In our short conversations I can agree with your fervor, but. I think you to be too lofty in your ideals. In the muck and mud of this world, the one we live in, wickedness will always rise. It will endure, and even should you see justice brought by your Fury so, too, will those of vile intentions bring their wills upon the world. I asked what will happen to those who would be a barrier to your vision? To the evil of this world we have now?"

Adelise De'bayle: "If they are a barrier to my vision, then they must be struck down by the pierce of her lance," she replied firmly, "I figured that was made clear enough. My ideas will be forever considered lofty to all around me, and I have simply learned to accept their doubt. Those who would not follow the virtues the gods present to us are the ones who prevent all from becoming greater than they could be. The sowers of prejudice, molders of false idols and worship. Shepherds of absent minds. Their ideals only serve themselves. And while self-preservation is of great importance, they will step on others to see that it is done. Deplorable. So yes. I would personally see them struck down. Do not get me wrong though," she sighs, setting her quill down. "I weep for such lost souls, despite their evil. We are not born tainted, we are made evil. Such potential lost."

Lawrence Wallace brings his arms to cross over his chest, his expression rather neutral for all the passion or doubt that generally claimed it. "I needed you to say it. To hear that you are willing to do what must be done in the name of your vision. That you are willing to act, not just speak words of dreams and visions as many are willing to resign themselves to. Whether you weep or not for those souls is no concern of mine, I wanted to know if." he pauses, eyes casting to the ground. "I am told I trust too easily those who display a passion for justice similar to my own. I wanted to know if I could trust you to act. If that is the case, I will offer my arm in aid."

Adelise De'bayle: "I find no pleasure in killing," Adelise trails off, her head tipping back, "I wish to change the world through action, to slay a person for their ideals is a last resort, but often it is the only option left. Many believe being the goddess of war that Halone revels in combat. It is not true. She is the goddess of war, not goddess of destruction like her father, Rhalgr. Her Fury's strongest virtue is mercy. To slay those who would be a stain on this world... it is a mercy," her tone grows dark, her mounting her quill once more. "You are offering me your alliance though, is that what I am hearing?"

Lawrence Wallace: "Last resort." his own voice takes a bitter turn for a moment before he looks back at her, stern and sure now. "I am. I tire of working alone. I tire of nobody willing to do anything to help those who need it. To leave evil and wickedness running amok while they live out their content lives behind walls of stone and coin. If you tell me you will act, so will I."

Adelise De'bayle: "To change hearts is the virtuous way of making a difference in the world, being a warmonger is not. Not all can be swayed through words, far too many are simply too lost to save" she shakes her head, genuine solemness coming over her features. "I am honoured to find an ally with such zeal. You do Hydaelyn justice by standing by me. Such passion," she hums to herself, eyes narrowing, "in time, we will see who you will walk in the righteousness of. Until then," she pushes her chair back, standing to approach the man with a respectful bow. "May we walk side by side on this path to the world where we will truly be free."

Lawrence Wallace: "I walk in the path of Righteousness for the people who deserve it. It is them I fight for. The people. If the Gods see fit to grant me the power to do so, I will thank them." he responds to her strange bow with a nod of his head, his fist thumping against his chest in a standard salute. "Until there is no more evil left in this world."

Adelise De'bayle: "The gods do not grant power," she states out firmly. "It is our responsibility to take their power and use it," she nods, "until there is no more evil. Tell me... Law," she turns on her heel, the drapes of her skirt flitting about dramatically, "when you look into the starfilled sky, what do you see?"

Lawrence Wallace blinks, looking up to the ceiling as if that would somehow illuminate his answer. "I see stars. I don't find myself looking up at them often. I'm not very good at taking breaks."

Adelise De'bayle huffs a single breath at his answer, turning to face him again. "You will come to learn soon, that they are more than just stars that light the darkness," motioning a hand about, Adelise gestures toward the room. "Take what you will, eat all you desire. All that I have, is yours. Is theres. This life of luxury was said to be a blessing after my many turns of living nearly in the wilderness at all times. I am not in need of luxury, as it does not push my ambition, so I instead wish to use this wealth given to me, to improve the quality of life for those who were born into nothingness. So they too can find the strength to stand and fight."

Lawrence Wallace waves off the offer, shaking his head with a frown. "Gifts lose their purpose on me. They are better used on another, one who cannot provide for themselves." he examines her carefully, looking at the fine fabric that made up her outfit, and a moment of doubt passed over him. "If you know of any work to do, though, I will take that instead. There is always too much to do."

Adelise De'bayle watches his expression, eyes following his own. "I am the Viscountess of this House. Along with my ambition, I have a responsibility to keep a face out of respect to the family that sacrificed more than you could comprehend for me to be standing here today," she pats a hand to her skirt, "I am currently on a pilgrimage to the stones of Eorzea with some companions of mine, others who wish to see the world changed. Our travels are taking us all over. We often come across things that need be done."

Lawrence Wallace dips his head, "Of course, I'm not used to seeing anything so..." he gestures to the room at large, and the decorations within. "If you need my help you can contact me. Unless I'm currently in battle I will respond."

Adelise De'bayle dips her head forward. "Trust me. I am not quite used to it all either myself. I will call upon you if ever needed, but..." she moves to take a seat once again, "please, feel free to come whenever you please as well. As an ally of my mine, my home is yours. If ever you need a place to rest your head, these doors are open to you."

Lawrence Wallace shifts from foot to foot, unease and discomfort passing over him now that the conversation he wanted to have was over. A hand goes up to his head, curling in the hair at the back. "Right. I doubt I will. This is no place for me, far too fancy."

Adelise De'bayle: "You say such, but accepting to be an ally of mine will mean I need to speak with you more often," she eyes him some, "but I will leave that up to your own discretion"

Lawrence Wallace: "Oh. Yeah. That's how this works." he sighs and nods, looking to the fire now. "Um...right. I guess I'll visit now and then, just to. Talk about things?"

Adelise De'bayle: "Sounds about right to me."

Lawrence Wallace: "Right. Then. I suppose I'll take my leave."

Adelise De'bayle: "If you have said you share and have nothing to add. It was good to see you again. Until next time," her head dips forward politely, hand reaching to pluck back up her quill.

Lawrence Wallace: "Goodbye then, Adelise."

And with such, my ambition grows.

[saanphoenix]

I mean, she gobbles up the energy of the crystals the old WoDs have, doesn't She? To be able to free Minfilia from her role as mouthpiece?

And, even then, Minfilia is STILL doing what Hydaelyn wants. Granted, that task is to save two worlds, but she's still doing that Oracle thing.

See, the only reason Ardbert was forbidden from sacrificing himself at that time was because...he had to sacrifice himself at a later time.

Minfilia, and Hydaelyn, knew he was one part of our soul. We were going to NEED him to save ourselves later. Like, sparing him at the Flood was never meant to be a mercy, it was never meant to be a good thing. He was treated like a power source for the More Important WoL.

I’m none too good with words but I’ve been thinking a lot about Ardbert, Minfillia and Hydaelyn.  

Maybe its ignorant of me to say this and I know Hydaelyn’s plan worked but forcing Ardbert to stay behind while his friends and allies sacrificed themselves to stop the flood and then leaving him completely alone for a hundred or more years seems just… really cruel.

He couldn’t be seen or heard by anyone for one hundred years.  He wandered what was left of the first for a century losing more and more of himself over time and probably witnessed countless horrible things committed by the Sineaters unable to help those in need.

I don’t know it just seems really cruel and I know her plan worked, but still.

[chysgoda]

Fireside Chats

In which the warriors of light and Ysael Iceheart come to an understanding

They were not attempting to be subtle, At all. The Warriors of Light ensured that one of them was between Ysael and each of their companions at all times. It had only been a few bells since Ysael had found them by the purple smoke of the fire, and the tension had done nothing but build. Estinen and Melisande were openly hostile, while Art’imis had settled into a stoic watchfulness, which left Alphinaud desperately trying to build some kind of report with the woman in spite of of his three companions. The only semi civil discussion happened silently between Art’imis and Melisande. Alphinaud couldn’t help but breath a sigh of relief when the two dragoons opted to scout ahead and find a campsite for the coming night.

“You need not worry about me,” the azure dragoon said bluntly as he and Melisande landed near the cliff face to inspect a promising looking alcove.

“I do if she summons her primal and takes it into her head to temper you and Alphinaud.” Melisande returned just as bluntly. “She cares about her own people enough not to temper them as far as Art and I can tell. that care may not extend to Alphinaud and certainly won’t extend to you.”

He folded his arms over his chest and frowned deeply at his fellow dragoon. Her words pricked at his pride, but he had to concede that she knew more about the dangers of a primal. They scouted the area silently for several minutes before Melisande spoke again. “It’s not like what happened with the Eye. Nidhogg can be fought, he could subdue you, even break you, but he cannot erase you. You would still be there buried and chained but still there and there would still be the possibility that you could be saved. The Tempered, there’s nothing left. Everything is burned away and drowned under a tide of corrupted aether. The very soul is scoured and nothing but ardent, mindless devotion to the primal remains. They cannot be saved, just given the final mercy so that their mere existence does not act as a beacon for the primal to be summoned to.”

“Who did you lose?” Estinien asked quietly.

Melisande shook her head. “No one directly, Bel lost her parents and Art her first lover. She’ll address it tonight so it’s not hanging over our heads for the entire mission.”

“Iceheart did not have any scruples about setting the Horde on innocents in the city. Can we trust her in this?”

“Unfortunately she is the best chance we have to get this done quickly. Art’imis thinks that tempering is beyond what she’s willing to do. Damned if I know how she came to that decision though, probably an echo vision she’s more sensitive to them.”

Estinen knew better than to ask if Melisande disagreed with the Paladin. The only time they presented anything but a united front in public was when they mock squabbled over petty nonsenses. If she shared the thought with him then the Warriors of Light had already discussed it and decided their position. “I’ll stay and keep watch for anything that may pass by here while you make sure everyone else gets here.”

Melisand snorted in amusement as Estinien put his back to the cliff face. She gave him a mocking salute and jumped away.

Art’imis ran as an efficient a camp as Melisande could run a household. It was an aspect of her personality that Alphinaud had not been familiar with until they left Falcon’s Nest. Camp had been set up, a fire built, and Art’imis had coaxed something edible out of the rations in their packs and a buzzard Melisande had caught on her way back from scouting. The tension in the group hadn’t eased, but it had at least stopped getting worse. Melisande’s attempts to help Art’imis cook had at least provided a distraction. The couple had settled into familiar patterns as camp was set up going about designated chores and directing him as to the smaller ones they needed done. Now balancing a plate of food on his knees Alphinaud realized that he had most likely been assigned the tasks that they normally would have assigned to young Bel. He tried not to show the grimace when he realized that the ten year old child probably had more experience living and surviving in the wild than he did. the two women had pulled him into their little shelter of domestic ritual and bonding and he found he couldn’t take offense at being slotted into Bel’s place. The shelter from the tension was passing though. Ysael had relaxed somewhat when the warriors of light had turned their attention off of her and to making camp. It didn’t last past dinner being dished onto plates. Melisande and Art’imis had returned to their positions bracketing the Elezan woman. Alphinaud couldn’t really blame Ysael for her stiff tension. Armed and armored the Warriors of Light looked every illm the heros that bards were fervently spinning new ballads about. It was probably not such a comforting sight if you had looked down sword and spear only to be found wanting twice.

Art’imis put her plate down on the snow by her feet after she finished. She turned to regard Ysael with her mismatched gold and silver eyes. “Did you temper any of your people?”

The taller woman’s eyes flashed with outrage and Alphinaud choked in surprise. Melisande absently saved his plate as he started coughing. Ysael stiffened even further “what do you mean by-“

“I’ve watched it happen” The flat calm of the Au’ra’s voice froze any other words that Ysael may have said. “Been there when when the aether was so thick I wanted nothing more than to vomit and curl in on myself. I’ve seen the moment before the deluge when on some level they realize what is happening before they are utterly destroyed. My first lover had followed us into the Bowl of Embers after I’d told him to leave and make sure that the other survivors got to safety. I watched as everything I was learning to love vanished. Afterwards Mel and I were staggering back out, burned and bloody to find a weeping child desperately trying to get a response from her parents. That night a Captain of the Immortal Flames explained that the Eaorzean Alliance’s policy was that the tempered were put to death…” Art’imis’ voice hitched on the last word and she paused. Melisande stared hard across the fire at her mate and gave a slight shake of her head Art’imis dismissed the concern with a motion of her fingers and then continued. “So I asked to be the one to give my love that final mercy. It was the only means of apology left to me, for not getting there sooner, for not being able to shield him…”

Ysael’s already pale complexion had turned a sickly gray. Alphinaud stared at the paladin. He’d never questioned why these two women had thrown themselves into battle after battle of ever strengthening primals. There was never a hesitation, never a delay longer than what was needed to gather tools and weapons. They were Hydaelyn’s chosen champions how could they do otherwise? He had never considered that there may be a personal reason. Visceral reasons so hotly branded on their souls that it had burned away the possibility for any other path to be chosen.

Lady Iceheart swallowed thickly, “I swear to you on all I hold dear I have done no such thing.”

Art’imis considered her and the only sound in the camp was the pop and crackle of burning wood. Finally she nodded. “Give me no reason to find you false.”

“And if you judge me to be false?”

“Then I’ll slit your throat and be done with it.” Both Ysael And Alphinaud‘s eyes widened at the flatly delivered promise. Art’imis stood. “I’ll take first watch.”

Four eyes watched as she walked to the mouth of the alcove and settled in to guard those in her charge.